


It's Raining Again

by jesseofthenorth



Series: I can't stand the rain [5]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesseofthenorth/pseuds/jesseofthenorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint wakes up in hospital, which sucks, so he decides to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Raining Again

**Author's Note:**

> Follows shortly after "Out of the Woods and Into the Fire ".
> 
>  
> 
> Un-beta-ed just like all the rest of these.

No one here cares that Clint hates hospitals. They don't care that the worst things, some of the most painful things, that have happened to him have happened in hospitals. Loses and endings and more loses and pain until all he can see or think or feel when he is in one is fear of what it will cost him.

He knows the people who work in hospitals are just trying to do their jobs and most of them want to _help_ people, just like he does. He still doesn't care. Hospitals mean only one thing to him; get away before you get hurt again. 

He is aware it's stupid and reactive and makes zero sense. That doesn't stop him from needing to get away.

It's no different this time when he is finally _awake_ and not just mostly conscious. He wakes to an empty, quiet room, thinks _no time like the present_ and carefully swings his legs over the edge of the bed. 

The floor is cold and his legs are weak so he goes slow but doesn't let it stop him. Clint has enough sense to climb back into the bed if it's really bad, but this isn't _really_ bad. It's bad enough, the hole in his arm and the chunk of missing meat just below his kidney hurt like a bitch but they'll heal if he isn't an idiot. So he's going to be smart. He's just going to be smart somewhere else.

There are clothes in the metal cupboard attached to the wall; his boots still dirty and laced loose and messy just the way he likes them, a clean black t-shirt, black boxers, gray cotton socks. And a perfectly aged pair of bootlegger jeans, just a shade darker than the ones Coulson had cut off of him in Croatia. Clint makes no effort to contain his delighted laugh. 

It takes him 45 minutes to get dressed. By the time he's done Clint is exhausted and says fuck it before laying down for a damned nap. He's maybe not as ready to get out of here as he'd hoped.

 

He wakes up and it's darker, later in the day. He feels better. Time to try this again. He sits up and lets his socked feet dangle over the edge of the bed. He doesn't remember taking his boots off.

A throat clears by the door and Clint looks up to see Phil Coulson standing there in his Dolce and Gabana suit holding Clint's filthy battered boots.

“Looking for these?” he says with a smirk.

“Yes sir.”

“If I give them to you are going to try to get up and leave?”

“Yes sir.” No point in lying, right?

“If I _keep_ them are you going to do it anyway?”

“Yes sir.” Still no point in lying.

Coulson sighs, drops the boots on the floor by Clint's feet and folds his arms across his chest, waiting. “Well let's get a move on then.”

Clint slips his feet into the boots because he's pretty sure he'll fall on his face if he tries to bend over to pull them on. He considers arguing when Coulson points at wheelchair in the corner of the room, but remembers the point here. Besides he can win an argument with Coulson another day, today he's too tired and just wants to be somewhere else.

“You want your apartment or a room here?” Coulson asks on the way to the elevators.

“Don't care” Clint says. He has little attachment to either.

Coulson nods and looks like he has more to say.

They don't go to quarters and they don't go to the parking level. Instead they get off on Coulson's office floor. 

“I need to grab a couple of things from my office then I'll take you home.”

Clint almost nods out sitting in the wheel chair while Coulson shuts done his desktop, grabs his laptop and a sheaf of papers. 

Five minutes later they pull into traffic and Clint sees it's raining. It makes him laugh a little because he's perverse and likes the symmetry of ending in the rain what started in the rain. 

Clint lets himself drift off while Coulson drives. For Clint there is almost no safer place on earth than in a car with Phil Coulson, so he lets himself rest.


End file.
